Well — unless you count the chalky prednisone I choked down as a tot and the steroid inhaler I puffed on twice today.

I'm 28, by the way.

Point being: From this point forward, I've no idea what I'm actually talking about.

I've always understood and accepted, to a certain extent, that my substance prudery and my chronic asthma render me on the less-than end of cool kid mathematics (Andy < cool), but things have gone too far in the recreational pill-poppin' realm for me to just sit back and watch Firefly on Netflix like I don't care about you cool kids.

EDM culture — save yourself a google; that means electronic dance music; you're welcome — has officially gone fashion forward in the form of those "Popped a Molly" shirts. Yes, that's the same Molly who also goes by the name of MDMA and ecstasy and, to get a step ahead of the zeitgeist for once, god particle.

Seriously. It's a shirt. Saying the wearer did a drug. And that's all. The end.

I mean, really?

Oh, and lest we forget, apparently EDM is also considered an entire freaking culture now. On par with, say, Egypt or Rome or Cardassia.

Too far, you guys. Too far.

Look, I get it. I do. There was a time when I strongly considered buying a "Jesus is My Homeboy" shirt, plus I'm a Colorado boy so I understand the concept of cannabis-leafed apparel. But "Popped a Molly"? Can't get on board with that. No way, no how.

That's like me walking around in a "Huffed a Ventolin" shirt (tri-blend American Apparel, if you must know). And while I appreciate the irony in my own asthmatic idea, it's just too ridiculous. By willingly spending your millennial unemployment checks on screen-printed and chemically inspired threads — not to mention on the Molly itself — you're losing a fragment of your humanity.

And really, isn't part of the point of doing a drug escaping the reality of having to do a drug to have fun or feel or dance in the first place? I imagine one doesn't necessarily care about popping a Molly after a popping a Molly. Like, you did it. Congrats. Your t-shirt agrees.

Obviously, I'm wrong and out of my comfort zone, so to type.

But I say, let's pop our Mollys and inhale our rescue meds if we must, but beyond that, let's strive for something grander and more meaningful in our attire. Like a pocket. Or a timber wolf. Or a faux Aztec pattern.